Once his back was slick, gleaming in the soft lamplight, she circled her palms up and down each side of his spine. In time, the tension in his buttocks where she straddled him eased, and by the time she progressed to lifting, freeing his back muscles, Vince noticeably became heavier on the bed. Good, that was exactly what she was after. The addition of ylang ylang in the almond carrier oil she used for the massage was reputed to have a sedating effect on the nervous system.

The scent affected Lulah, too, her mind quietening as she drew her thumbs down either side of his spine, lingering at his hips. He’d stopped making any sound, now, his breathing slow and shallow, suggesting he had drifted into sleep.

She finished with broad strokes, lightening the pressure with each sweep until she stopped, one hand cradling the base of his skull, the other resting on his sacrum, to ground Vince and herself.

He never stirred when she finished, and the soft huff of each exhalation told her he slept. The cabin was warm, and she removed her clothing to lie across him, lowering gently, bringing the quilt with her, so as not to disturb his rest. Turning her head, she rested her cheek against the compass tattoo, the mark on his back that signified an exceptional wound, slow to heal and deeper than any of his scars.

She loved him.

The thought came in a flash, and the near brutality of it terrified her. They were fine in this retreat, this wonderland of peace, sheltered from the stresses of daily life, the expectations of others, the chaos of the outside world.

Here was an entire network of people to support them, to watch for signs of distress and step in to fix that. Here they could manage Vince, the way an animal reserve housed its wild inhabitants, giving them the illusion of being free, but always watching, ready in an instant to ensure their protection.

So was it here that she loved him? Only here? That was a ridiculous notion—that someone could turn love on and off at the gate—still, she was concerned. Was hers a classic holiday romance, famous for a brief love that ended at the airport baggage carousel?

Was what she felt powerful enough to sustain itself once they returned to normal life? Theirs wasn’t a holiday romance, though. They’d known each other a year, and deepened that relationship even more these past months as Vince let her that bit further into his life.

Perhaps she’d have been more certain if she’d opened her own heart some instead of keeping him at arm’s length, making sure they wouldn’t slip into any dependency roles. How could she give him this love when it was something she herself only now came to accept?

And Vince’s healing? Would it need topping off? Perhaps this new light was like a sacrificial flame that, once snuffed, took the presence of love away in its brief finger of smoke.

She loved him.

However, the fact that she would leave tomorrow with Adoette and that Vince would go in another direction to photograph a commission for a carousel dog, was a relief. Time alone would allow her to examine her feelings.

So much she wanted to say those three words to him while he slept, to try them out and make sure they didn’t choke her. Raising her head a few inches, her cheek hot and slick from resting on the compass tattoo, she tested the words, murmuring ‘I love you’ into the center of the compass, the needle that was Vince. She went to move off him, but when she pushed up on her arms, Vince snaked one hand backwards to capture her upper arm, pulling her back.

“Don’t move.”

Oh, hell.

“Breathe, Lulah.”

Shitdamnhellblast. She froze. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She’d never said those three words to a man before because she knew they couldn’t be taken back.

“I’m breathing.” Barely, but I’m taking in air.

“Would you lie back down on me again? I like the way you feel.”

“Sure,” she managed. Draped over him, skin-to-skin, her heart slowed, too, and in minutes, Vince’s breathing returned to that relaxed, shallow state that said he’d once more fallen asleep.

He could break her heart. She understood that, now, and it made her vulnerable, because that’s what she’d fought against all along. It wasn’t so much the way he could disappoint her or her fear of being with someone unreliable, because anyone could do that. Vince, however, could do things to her that no one else could.

Lulah woke twice through the night. The first time, she discovered at some point while they slept they had rearranged themselves. Or perhaps that had been Vince. She rested on her left side with Vince nestled tightly behind her.

One hand captured her breast, though the weight of his palm was heavy, as if in slumber. But that hand lied, because his hungry mouth pressed to the back of her neck, at the juncture of that and her shoulder, and his teeth had taken a gentle hold. The way his tongue moved across her skin suggested there was no way the hot guy slept.

A shiver ran through her. To be honest, in this half-sleep, she wanted to lie there and let Vince take whatever pleasure he needed, knowing that the satisfaction would be shared. Always, when cocooned by him, she felt protected.

Seconds later, she heard his own whispered declaration of love, and she stiffened. Was his a response to what she’d uttered earlier? She could ask him, but in that question, she would give too much away. Managing her breathing became impossible, and if Vince wanted to, he could call her out on faking sleep. Yet he stayed at that spot on her neck.

She must have drifted back to sleep, because again she awoke, but this time with a sense of alarm. Vince sat on the side of the bed, his head in his hands. She spoke first before touching him, not wanting to give him a fright. “Nightmare, Vince?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Different.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

After a bit, he gave his head one last rub and lay back beside her, reaching for her, pulling her to him. “Come closer to me.”

Lulah stretched herself along his length, draping one leg across his thighs. He skin hot, but not clammy. “Okay there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. I had a weird dream. It was so real, so…like they were all here in this room with us.”

“Who?” She could guess, but she wanted to keep him talking.

“The guys, my cardinal points, standing in that four-point compass rose format. But this time, in the middle—the needle—stood the young girl who died in my arms. I haven’t seen her there before. The guys stood as if protecting her. She was bathed in this extraordinary golden light—I can still see it—and they all moved close to her and brought her forward to me. I sat over there.”

He pointed to the small table and chairs in the corner of the living room.

“But there were no walls to the cabin. You stood behind me with your hands on my shoulders. We were surrounded by the forest and lake. She spoke, said her name was Fereshteh, and that it means angel. The energy coming off her, feeding me, it was unbelievable. She told me that with my friends she watches over me, but that she has another job, a special job, to watch over Gable.”

He put his hand over his face, and when Lulah reached for it, to clasp it within her own, she discovered his fingers wet from the tears seeping between them.

“Jesus.” The word came out as a giant exhalation that took with it so much tension and fear it seemed as if he would deflate with the release of pressure.

“The others spoke, each taking turn. They told me to let all of it go, the war, the guilt, all of it, because I have a special job to do, to help other warriors stuck in the state I’ve been in. That if I opened myself to the love present there for me, my soul would heal. They said the love is right here, waiting, but that it needed acknowledgment and acceptance for it to flourish and grow.”

Lulah’s own eyes became hot and wet, and she was thankful for the dark room, that he’d never discover how loaded with emotion she had become.

“Nathan spoke, alone. He told me I needed to release them, that they would always be here with me, but that they hurt with my hurt, so if I accept love and love myself, they will be able to feel the love, too. Fereshteh said Calliope was a special dog with a spirit that had suffered through its own hardship and that she was sent to the Sanctuary to connect with me.

“Do you remember that, Lulah? How I tried to send Calliope away but she wouldn’t leave me be?”

“We all remember that, Vince. We often speak of it.”

“I don’t know what this means, this dream. Is it something I’ve conjured up to beat back the nightmares?”

Lulah had no idea. Dreams for her were a jumble. She was lucky if she could remember much when she woke, and what she could remember was nonsense. She ran one hand down his arm, stopping at his wrist to trace the tattoo he had done for Gable. “I wish I knew.” Her fingers kept running along the letters. “It sounds different than a normal dream. Do you feel okay?”

“I feel good, like relieved. I’ll talk with Adoette and Eric in the morning. They have both spoken of dream healing, so they might have some insight.”

He still needed them, and the idea formed like a knot in her stomach because something had changed through the night. She wanted to be the one he turned to for help, to support him and help him find the answers.

The idea mocked her because Vince was finally doing what she’d encouraged him to do all along. He had found the person to help him, the one who would take him inside himself and guide him through the darkest places of his psyche. Everything she’d hoped for him, he’d done, except, now she wanted Vince to come to her. Did love really make you that fickle?

“Thank you, Lulah.”

Wait. What for? “I’ve done nothing, Vince. You don’t have to thank me.” In fact, she’d done less than nothing; she’d repeatedly pushed him away when he’d reached out to her.

He pulled her close. “Silly imp. You made me believe I could make it.” He took the edge of the quilt and rolled them both so that they were swaddled in its warmth. “It’s nearly dawn. Let’s grab another hour’s sleep.”